No Thrill Left in Feeding on the Willing
by Eternallybills
Summary: Soft-core domination fantasy, NC-17. Based on Eric's comment to the hooker at Hotel Camilla. His response to her offer to fake it: "Only if you're really, really good at it." She wasn't, but what if he met someone who really, really was?
1. Chapter 1

**Note: The character of Eric Northman is not mine. I am borrowing him to tell a story, inspired by several True Blood episodes. I promise to return him in excellent health and spirits (trust me). Eric and Pam in this story are the characters from Alan Ball's True Blood – I have not read the books. All other characters are my own. Any resemblance to another author's work is purely accidental and unintentional.**

**This story is VERY NC-17 and not even remotely PC, although the first two chapters are rated R for language and mature themes. The overall story is a (soft core) domination fantasy, so please, read the description and be warned. It will not be everyone's cup of tea, and I am seeking to entertain, not offend. Read at your own discretion.**

**I was inspired by several TB scenes: the first time we meet Eric, sitting on his "throne" in Fangtasia, kicking a hapless male fangbanger off the platform; his "trust me" whisper to Sookie at the FOTS church; and mostly his lament to the hooker at the Hotel Camilla that "there's no thrill left in feeding on the willing." "Do you want me to pretend not to like it?" she offered. "Only if you're really, **_**really**_** good at it," was his reply. She really, really wasn't, and he quickly lost interest. I couldn't stop thinking: what if Eric met a woman who really, **_**really was**_**?**

**CHAPTER 1**

"Who is THAT?" Laura asked, trying not to stare at the strikingly tall and sexy blond man holding court on a platform at the front of the bar. "Man" was probably not the right word – he was obviously a vampire, and an important one, judging by the way everyone at Fangtasia responded to him. The reactions varied by species: the vampires respected, obeyed or even feared him. The humans mostly seemed to desire him, although the feeling was clearly not mutual. One fawning male, who had been too persistent in his quest for attention, had been sent sprawling off the platform by a swift kick. If Laura had to guess, based on the way he ignored, insulted and even assaulted the humans, this vampire felt only contempt for them.

"That's Eric Northman, owner of Fangtasia and Sheriff of Area 5," replied Andrea, her friend, veteran fangbanger and unofficial tour guide for her first foray into the vampire world.

"Sheriff? Like silver-star, bust-up-a –saloon-fight, Marshal-Dillan-in-Gunsmoke type of Sheriff?"

"Not a _silver_ star, that's for sure – silver burns vampires. 'Sheriff' is a powerful position in vampire politics. I don't understand all the rules, but he's something between Mayor and a feudal Lord. 'Grand Poobah' in these parts. Pretty close to absolute authority, from what I hear. And the best lay of my life, by a factor of several million," Andrea mused.

"You mean you've…?"

"Uh huh. And I would again, in a flash, if he ever gave me a second glance. But I guess I wasn't quite enough of a challenge."

Laura looked up at her friend, quizzically. "Challenge?"

Andrea sighed. "That magnificent creature is over 1,000 years old, which makes him an extremely powerful vampire; they get stronger over the years. He was a Viking warrior, a commander, in his human life, and he's had women swoon over him his entire existence. He's got a major case of 'been there, done that,' which makes it a little difficult to keep his interest. I overheard him complain once that there wasn't much thrill left in feeding on the willing. You can see how indifferent he is in all those pathetic fangbangers lining up to grovel at his feet."

Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He's beautiful, I'll grant you that, but his behaviour is repulsive. Who needs that kind of abuse and distain? Why would anyone subject herself to that?"

Andrea moved her chair closer and dropped her voice. "I lost count at 10 orgasms and nearly blacked out. Not only ruined me for humans – even other vampires just don't quite measure up anymore. If you _ever_ get the chance to do _that_ one, girlfriend, grab it and hang on. Eric Northman should be on _everyone's_ 'bucket list!' "

Laura was now paying attention. She was experiencing something of a dry spell lately – there had been no one compelling in her social life for over six months. She was a strong, independent woman, who had left a six-figure VP Creative Director's job at a major advertising agency to found her own firm five years earlier. The company was successful and growing, but it left her little time for dating. She'd also found it hard to meet a man who could keep her intrigued for long. She wanted a relationship of equals, with someone who respected her intelligence and was proud of her achievements. But while she liked calling the shots in the _boardroom_, the _bedroom_ was another matter altogether. She would not have admitted it to anyone else, but she craved a man who would take total control of her, sexually. She wasn't into pain, just power – someone else's. She had struggled with it for years, feeling guilty about betraying her feminist beliefs, but had finally made peace with her sexual tastes. _The heart wants what the heart wants, and why should the clit be any less entitled?_ "Whatever floats your boat" was now her philosophy, and smooth sailing to Laura meant a very firm hand on her rudder. A no-strings roll in the hay with a powerful vampire might be just what she needed. "Hmmm," said Laura, now looking at the Sheriff with new and hungry eyes, "I guess he just needs someone to play very, very hard to get. But first, I need to get his attention."

"And how do you intend to get it?" asked her friend, who had been trying to do just that for several months.

"By doing the one thing that no one in this entire bar is doing – ignoring him completely. Which should be easy – I have work to do!"

Laura hadn't come into Fangtasia looking for vampire love or lust. Andrea's endorsement notwithstanding, Laura was there for more practical reasons. Her agency had a strong roster of clients, mostly in the food, beverage and pharmaceutical industries. As a result, she realized, she was missing out on a large and affluent target market: vampires. Tonight, she was out for a different type of prey than Fangtasia's other customers: she wanted to poach the TruBlood account from a rival agency. But to do that, she needed to understand its customers, and what better place for research than Fangtasia? The eye candy that was Eric Northman would be a pure bonus. So Laura set out to kill two vamps with one stake, so to speak. She started circulating among the vampire customers, introducing herself, explaining her intentions and offering to buy a TruBlood for anyone willing to talk to her about the product. And she made sure not to give the Sheriff of Area 5 a second glance, which, of course, got his attention quickly.

"The Sheriff wants to see you," said the vampire bouncer who was now towering over her table. He was massive, even bigger than Eric, but somehow he didn't project the same power as the sexy Viking. She was deep in discussion with four female vampires who were debating the pros and cons of mainstreaming and complaining about how TruBlood just wasn't the Real Thing. So much for "_Coca Cola for Vampires_," as a slogan, Laura smiled to herself.

"I'm busy," she told him, turning her back on him, asking her new-found friends, "Is it the taste, the texture, or the delivery system? Would it help if they packaged it in a bag you could pierce with your fangs and suck to drink?"

"Sheriff wants to see you, NOW!" hissed the bouncer, with a very firm hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Who is this Sheriff, why does he want to see me and what gives him, and you, the right to be so rude?" she demanded, secretly pleased that her plan was working. Her tablemates actually paled (something she wouldn't have thought possible) at her brusque retort, and at the bouncer's angry snarl.

"He's the owner of this bar, the law while you're in it, and you can ask HIM what he wants when you're sprawled at his feet!" growled the bouncer, yanking her to her feet by her elbow and shoving her roughly toward the platform where Eric sat, watching with amusement. He pushed her up the stairs, dragged her over to his boss and dropped her on the floor in front of him. "Here's the human you wanted, Sheriff. Damned bloodbag wasn't exactly cooperative."

The bar was silent. All eyes were on the platform. Laura looked up at Eric and scowled, "Hell of a way to treat your customers – get much return business?" A few fangbangers gasped at her audacity. Some of the vampires smiled in anticipation.

The bouncer was about to cuff her across the face for her sarcasm and impertinence, but Eric waved him off. "I apologize for the zeal of my employee. I merely asked him to call you over here. Your reluctance must have caught him off-guard; most humans jump at the chance to approach me. Please, sit down," he invited, offering her a chair facing him.

Laura glowered at him, made a show of brushing herself off, and sat down. The chair was narrow, hard and low, designed to make its occupants feel even smaller in front of the Sheriff of Area 5. When she was seated, he leaned in close to her, very much "in her face." The speed of his movement startled her, and she guessed it had been intentional. He was intimidating, if not actually menacing. "Who are you, why have you come to Fangtasia and what are you discussing with my vampire customers?" he asked. Laura was polite, but held her ground. She introduced herself and explained her professional interest in the bar's fanged patrons. Eric's mouth twitched, the barest of smiles – he appreciated a good head for business. But he did his best to appear stern. "You must ask my permission before conducting business in my bar," he told her in no uncertain terms.

"Actually, I'm within my legal rights," she defended herself. "As long as I'm not competing with you, harming your business or bothering your customers, my freedom of speech is guaranteed. In fact, I might be helping you, if I can increase your sales of TruBlood. I'm also buying them for your customers, keeping them in the bar longer. But I meant no offence to you, Sheriff."

"Your human legal rights end at the entrance to Fangtasia," Eric warned her. "_My_ word is the law inside."

She took a gamble and pressed him harder. "_Really_? I wonder what the Shreveport Police would have to say about _that_?"

Again, he was in her face faster than she could imagine. It rather took her breath away. "I don't respond well to threats," he warned, baring his fangs. "And any police officers who come to investigate Fangtasia soon forget why they are here. Finish your drink and leave. You have 15 minutes. Stay any longer than that, or come back anytime, and I will consider you _fair game_."

"What exactly does _that_ mean?" she asked, feigning anger, knowing she had hit her mark.

"It means that I will consider you to be a fangbanger, just like every other breather in this bar. I will do with you whatever I choose. Real…_bad_…things. And not a soul will challenge me here."

"So you'll hypnotize me like you do the police?" she asked, wanting to know exactly what she was getting herself into. She had no interest in becoming his permanent pet. She would be coming back for a good time, not a long time.

"It won't be that easy for you," he smirked. "I _never_ glamour prey. That's for the weak and the _unattractive_." He flashed her a maddening, Cheshire-cat grin.

"Isn't it bad for business if your customers disappear?" Laura challenged. She was also not interested in being drained, and ending up fish food in the river.

"You'd be free to leave at the end of the night," he assured her, "but you might be a little worse for wear. I can be rather _enthusiastic_ in my attention to my female companions, and I suspect you might arouse my… _appetites_." He licked his fangs and leered.

Gawd, he was cocky, but sexy as hell. "You won't see me again," she lied, standing up and projecting as much indignation as should thought she could get away with. "I can't believe anyone would put up with this kind of _crap_!"

"You… are… _**MINE**_," Eric proclaimed to her as she turned to leave, just loudly enough for every vampire in the bar to hear. She opened her mouth for an angry retort, but he was too fast for her. He grabbed her wrist, spun her around and pulled her close to his chest, covering her mouth with his hand. He whispered in her ear, "Before you say anything foolish, be advised that I have just given you safe passage out of here, free from the unwanted advances of any other vampire. No one here will touch you but me. Until I say otherwise." He glared at her, marking his territory with his eyes. She pulled away from him angrily and signalled to Andrea that she was leaving. Laura made a great show of storming out of Fangtasia, trying very hard not to smile.


	2. Chapter 2

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers_

**CHAPTER 2**

She stayed away from Fangtasia for 3 ½ weeks, long enough to let him work up an appetite (was she flattering herself?) but not long enough for him to forget their encounter. She wasn't going to be obvious, though – he wanted a challenge and she was going to give him one. She wore a disguise: a demure dress, high-cut, ¾ sleeves and to the knee, with high-heeled red pumps, looking more like one of the more fashionable Fangtasia tourists than a Fangbanger. Andrea had managed to convince her to "Goth it up" on her first trip, and she felt she looked quite different, and much less ridiculous, this time. She also wore a wig, a mid-length blond bob covering her long chestnut hair, and modest make-up. She hoped to blend in, or at least to appear to be trying to.

Laura sat down at a table near the back, far aware from the Sheriff's platform, her back to him. "Buy you a drink?" asked a vampire who had been sitting nearby. Hmm… tall, pale and handsome, but not Eric by a long shot. Still, he might complete her disguise, and he could serve as a pleasant diversion, if Eric didn't take the bait. She could even continue her research.

"Why not?" she smiled. "A glass of Shiraz, please." Within minutes he returned, with the wine and a B positive TruBlood. She smiled again. "Is it a coincidence that you're drinking my type?" she asked, "or can you detect it from my scent?" He was attractive, and flirting after all this time was kind of fun. Besides, it was practice for when the Sheriff came a callin'.

"A pale imitation, I assure you," he grinned, avoiding the question, "and my good luck, rather than a coincidence. Nothing satisfies quite like a B positive!" He meant it to be charming, seductive even, but it sounded rather lame to her. No matter – she had other things on her mind.

"Would you mind if I asked you some questions about TruBlood? I'm doing some unofficial research. And I'll buy the next round, for your time." He never had the chance to reply. The bouncer appeared out of nowhere and yanked her up by her elbow. Her would-be suitor remained sensibly seated and silent. _So much for chivalry_, she thought, but then again, she didn't really want to be rescued. "Sheriff wants to see you, NOW!" the bouncer barked. Bingo. She nodded silently and offered no resistance this time.

"I warned you what would happen if you returned," Eric rebuked her when she was brought to him. He pulled off her wig. "Did you really think _this_ would fool me?" He ran his nose from her throat to her ear lobe and sniffed deeply. "I recognized your scent the moment you entered. You were warned not to return, and yet here you are. You obviously didn't get what you came for last time." He was positively leering at her, and damned if she didn't find it a turn-on.

She kept her composure, straightening her hair and glaring at him. "Of course I didn't," she snapped, playing her part to the hilt. "You chased me out before I could finish my research."

That infuriatingly confident smile returned. "Your _research_. Of _course_. Well, that will have to wait – I have much more _entertaining_ plans for you tonight." His emphasis on the word "entertaining" gave her butterflies – in her stomach and between her legs. He pulled her to her feet by her wrist and started walking towards a door behind the bar. She was not finished fighting, however.

"What are you doing? I'm not going anywhere with you!" she protested.

"As you wish," he replied, pushing her roughly against the bar. He bent her over it, held her in place with one hip and grasped the neckline of her dress in both hands. "I'll take you here, then. Vampires aren't the slightest bit bashful, Laura. You can be the evening's entertainment. Might even be good for business! We'll start with your dress." He pulled slightly at the collar and the first stitch of the seam popped.

This was way more than she bargained for – it was time to start giving in. "All right, I'll go with you," she agreed.

"Where?" he demanded, wanting to hear her submission.

"Wherever you say," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers. The steamy stuff really begins here. Very NC-17 and not at all politically correct. This is a domination fantasy, but it is soft core - it's about power, not pain, and everyone is having a very good time._

**CHAPTER 3**

Grasping her wrist, Eric bent Laura's right arm behind her back and pushed her forward. On his way past the bar, he motioned to Pam. "I'm NOT to be disturbed, unless the building is on fire." She looked down at Laura and licked her lips. "Looks tasty! Need another pair of fangs?" she offered, cocking an eyebrow. "You know I never share on the first date," he grinned. "Let me work the 'bugs' out first." Laura tried to pull away at that comment, but he was holding her too securely. Pam laughed, and walked away.

He frog marched Laura through his office, to a private room at the very back of the building. He pushed her into the room and closed the door, double-locking it. Laura looked around the space. It seemed to be a well-appointed guest room, although she suspected it was designed more for what she imagined was in store for her. It appeared totally light-proof, with weather-stripping on the door and no windows. Wall sconces bathed the room in subtle, seductive light. Four massive black marble columns marked off the "sleeping" chamber, _as if any sleeping were likely to occur!_ A king-sized four-poster bed, flanked by mahogany night tables, filled the chamber space. Ornate iron candelabras graced both tables. An overstuffed couch and matching love seat faced the bed, forming a meeting area with a low glass table. To the right of the bed, a standing mirror on an elaborate, wrought-iron frame reflected the sitting area. At the other end of the room, a mahogany power desk and leather chair held a state-of-the-art computer with a large flat-screen monitor. The desk's mostly empty surface was polished to a gleam. It was the type of office furniture used to impress clients and intimidate underlings. It was perfectly proportioned for someone of Eric's stature.

He didn't give her much of a chance to admire her surroundings. He spun her to face him. "I'm going to give you several choices, tonight," he explained. "Make good use of them, because you aren't getting many." Laura's pulse raced. She felt at sea, in the midst of the perfect storm, and Captain Bligh* was in firm command of the ship. _Be careful what you wish for_, she thought, ruefully, but she knew she wouldn't back out now, even if she could.

"Choice number one: You can take off your dress and have something to wear home, or I can rip it off of you." Laura backed away from him, and he smiled. "Going somewhere?" he asked. He peeled off his shirt, revealing a chiselled chest and massive biceps that glowed in the faint light. Laura made a show of reluctant agreement, then pulled off her dress. She looked Eric straight in the eyes, and laughed at his surprised "What the F…?"

"The Fellowship of the Sun calls it a 'Vampire Chastity Suit.' They asked me to field test it for them. _Like it_?" she smirked. She was wearing a rolled collar, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of Bermuda-length shorts, both made entirely of woven silver mesh and tied together with a silver cord, wound through rivets in both pieces. The cord ended in a silver padlock, the key to which was on a silver chain around her neck, tucked inside the shirt. Laura rolled up the collar, so that the shirt covered her neck completely. The mesh was a loose weave – her bra and panties were partly visible through it – and embedded throughout the shirt and shorts were small, black circles. Eric stepped forward to get a closer look, and Laura flipped a small switch at the waist. Each circle erupted into a 3-inch, polished wooden spike. Eric visibly started. Laura's surprise had had the desired effect.

For a moment, anyway. The wicked grin returned. He kicked off his sandals and calmly unbuckled his belt. His pants dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them and kicked them aside. He stood there, clad only in black silk boxers, looking magnificent and victorious. What was he _thinking_? Eric walked slowly over to the couch, picked up a throw cushion and placed it over his heart. Before Laura could take another breath, he was up against her, the cushion the only thing between them. The spikes dug into his skin. Eric groaned, and Laura could smell his flesh burning from the silver, but he held her tightly. With fangs still retracted, he bit her earlobe sharply, but without drawing blood. He grabbed her right breast and left butt cheek, squeezing both hard through the silver mesh, ignoring the burning on his hands and arms. She yelped at his rough touch, surprised at his ability to withstand the pain. He pushed her away forcefully and laughed.

"Tell the Fellowship they have a thing or two to learn about vampires," he scoffed. "I have no objection to a little pain with my pleasure, and I heal _very_ quickly." She could see it was true: his burn marks and stab wounds were disappearing before her eyes. "What about _you_?" he asked, mocking her. "So here is your second choice of the evening, _Human_." He lifted a large candle from the candelabra and lit it. "You can leave the suit on. I will coat the silver in melted wax, which will stop it from burning me. The spikes are a minor nuisance. _You_, however, might find the hot wax…_uncomfortable_. I will get a pair of bolt cutters from the supply room and cut holes where I want… _access_. And for every drop of my blood that those spikes draw, I will take _five_ of yours." Laura gulped. This was getting intense pretty fast.

"What's my alternative?" she asked.

"You can take that ridiculous thing off, immediately. You have 30 seconds."

Her knees gave way. She couldn't tell if she was more frightened or aroused, but she knew she had pushed him far enough, at least for now. She regretted not establishing a "safe word" on her last visit, a mutually agreed-to code that would end the game if it went too far. _Was this even a game to him?_ she wondered. _What have I gotten myself into?_ She retracted the spikes, pulled the key from around her neck and started removing the suit. "Ten seconds," he warned, walking towards her with the candle. "I'm going as fast as I can, and threatening me isn't helping," she gasped. He laughed and replaced the candle. "Very well then, do it _slowly_," he purred. "What would the Fellowship think of their suit being used as a strip-tease costume?" He walked over to the desk, and pressed a button on the computer. Slow, jazzy music filled the room. Eric sat down on the couch to watch.

"Dance for me, Laura. Make the wait worth my while. Otherwise, I might assume you've changed your mind about the wax." She started to protest, but closed her mouth when he moved to stand up. She hung her head and sighed, doing her best to look and sound utterly defeated. Her heart was pounding and her panties slick with her excitement. She had certainly found an alpha dog this time – but _she_ was the one on the tight leash. She regretted the times she had mocked the women taking "strippercise" classes at the gym, and hoped she would not look ridiculous, like Jamie Lee Curtis in _True Lies_. _If he laughs at me_, she promised herself, _I will stake the bastard!_

Laura cast her eyes down, and glided over to one of the marble columns, taking slow, deliberate steps to the bluesy rhythm. _**Be**__ the music_, she told herself, and closed her eyes, swaying hips, thighs, shoulders, neck. She raised her right hand high above her head and leaned it on the column, holding it there while walking/swinging herself around it languidly. She leaned her back into the column and let her head fall back against it, tracing her hand down her chin, neck and between her breasts. She brought a hand up to each side of the collar and rolled it back down, peeling it off her neck. She hooked her left hand into the rolled silver at her throat and tugged down to reveal her tanned, gleaming skin. With her right hand back up behind her ear, she brushed her silky locks off her shoulder, leaning her head to the left, exposing a long, creamy, virgin neck. An audible "click" was the positive reinforcement she needed: Eric's fangs had emerged, and his upper lip was curled in a hungry snarl.

She placed her hands behind her, on opposite sides of the column, and slid down it several inches. She placed her hands on her mid thighs, pressing them to open and shut her knees. Her face was down, but her eyes were locked on his, holding his undivided attention. She stood and turned her back to him to straddle the post and did a deep knee bend. Standing up, still swaying and gyrating, she crossed her hand across her chest and grasped the hem of the shirt with both hands. She pulled it up, inch by inch, exposing waist, midriff, back. In one smooth motion, it was over her head and tossed beside her on the floor. With her back still to him, she bent forward, her thumbs tucked into the waistband of the shorts. Small shifts of weight from heel to heel were all she needed to keep his eyes riveted on her hips and shapely butt, as she languorously worked the shorts down to her thighs, then let them drop. She swung herself behind the column, straddling it again, and rubbed herself against it. _Damn_, she thought, enjoying herself thoroughly, _I have __**got**__ to check out those classes!_

"Come over here," Eric commanded. She approached the couch. He stood and twirled her slowly. "That simply won't do, Laura," he tsked. She had chosen her underwear strategically: the white cotton lace bra and panties were flattering, but demure, the choice of a woman who wanted to feel pretty, not look sexy. They supported Laura's _I-never-expected-to-be-in-this_-_situation-and-I'm-not-a-willing-participant_ story perfectly. "Vampires aren't much for subtlety," he admonished her. She felt a tug and heard a loud rip, and her clothing lay in tatters at her feet. She wore nothing but high heels and a furious blush.

He spun her down into his lap, her back against his chest. He wrapped his left arm tightly around her waist, immobilizing her completely. His right hand cupped her breast, while his thumb worked her nipple into a hard point. She could feel him harden against her butt. He turned slightly, facing the mirror. He leaned back, shifting his weight, and worked his knees under and inside of hers. He cupped his hand under her chin and turned her face up to watch their reflections. Then he opened and closed his knees rhythmically, spreading her legs further apart each time, in tribute to the dance she had performed for him. He released her head, but ordered her to keep her eyes in the mirror, as he reached down to rub her mound with the flat of his hand, slow circular motions timed to the bluesy beat. With his middle finger extended, he traced up and into her folds, exploring her wet depths, then circling her pleasure point. Laura tried to struggle with him, but he was holding her too tightly, and pleasing her too mightily, and it was all she could do not to beg for more. Before removing his hand, Eric flicked her clit playfully, leaving it standing at attention and pining for his return.

He stood up suddenly, sending Laura tumbling to the floor.

"Get up. You've got work to do," he announced, as if he had never touched her. "You will serve me with your mouth shortly, but I won't reward your behaviour tonight with a single drop of vampire blood. Go into the bathroom, through that door. Bring me a warm, wet hand towel and clean up the blood you drew. Every last drop." Laura didn't hesitate; it would actually be something of a relief to put some space between her and the vampire. "The door is easy enough to kick in," he called after her, "so don't test my patience by locking it. You _really_ don't want to provoke me any more than you already have." _Ah, but I do_, Laura thought. _Not too much – I want you just below the boiling point, at a nice, steaming simmer._ She returned quickly with the cloth, and a small basin of warm water, but stopped in her tracks, her mouth agape. Eric had removed the torn silk boxers, and stood proudly in front of her in all his glory, arms folded across his splendid chest. He was clearly… _happy_ to see her. She swallowed hard, and nervously licked her lips. "My sentiments, exactly," laughed Eric, his eyes narrowing and darkening. "but first, the blood."

Laura obeyed, dipping the cloth into the warm water, wringing it out and wiping him down. She started at his shoulders, long, slow strokes down his arms, over his rippling biceps. She dipped the cloth again, and left it wet, dripping water on his sculpted chest, down to his chiselled abs. She watched the drops flow down his body, longing to catch them with her tongue and lick them up to his neck. But that would be giving up too much, way too soon. She wrung the cloth out again, rubbing and scrubbing down his back, his legs, his steely butt. She had saved the best for last. She wrapped the cloth around his stiff manhood, and rolled it gently between her palms. She pulled it down along the length of his shaft, with small, circular motions. He moaned softly. It had begun.

She circled him, inspecting her work. "Done," she announced. "No trace of blood or wounds. It's as if it never happened."

An explosion of motion, at vampire speed: He laced his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled up sharply, bringing her nose-to-nose with him. "But it _did_ happen," he growled, "and I will not forget the blood debt you owe me, _Breather_." He tugged hard on her hair again and her knees buckled. He pushed her down to kneel in front of him. "I imagine you know what to do from that vantage point," he sneered. She turned her face away from him, and he grabbed her chin in his right hand and pulled her face up. "Here's your next choice, Laura. _You_ can do it, to my _complete_ satisfaction, or…" he squeezed her jaw tightly, forcing her mouth open, "…_I_ can do it. Which do you think you'd find more pleasant?" She nodded her head in agreement and he let go, roughly, pushing her face down and away. "And don't even _think_ of biting me – whatever you do to me now, I will do to you later, but threefold." _Excellent_, thought Laura. He had given her the excuse she needed to take on her task with enthusiasm, without spoiling the game. She loved giving head, and she was very skilled at it.

She placed her hands on the back of his upper thighs, to brace herself. They were like tree trunks, massive, hard and steady. She flicked her tongue out to lick the side of his left knee, and glossed her way slowly up his inner thigh, stopping occasionally to breathe warm air onto the moist path she was creating. She ran the top of her nose into the crease at the very top of his inner thigh and nuzzled him, teasing the area with the tip of her tongue. She breathed in, deeply. He smelled earthy, like good rich top soil from her garden, not musky like many human men. She found the outside edge of his public hair, and caught a few strands between her teeth. She pulled them, gently, and nipped him lightly on his inner thigh. She heard him take a few deep breaths. _I thought vampires didn't need to breathe_, she wondered. _I'll take that as a compliment._

Laura caught her reflection out of the corner of her eye, knelling at Eric's feet, naked but for her stilettos. She knew that most people would consider this a position of submission, but she felt very powerful. This undead Viking Lord towered over her, but she had him, literally, by the "short and curlies." She had the ability at his moment to bring him to his knees, and they both knew it. But they would continue this game they had created, and see it to its conclusion.

Eric shifted his weight and sighed. _Was he getting impatient?_ Laura continued on her quest, moving her mouth towards his centre. She licked his balls, one at a time, using the tip of her tongue to trace large circles on them, and the flat to lap them up and down. Eric groaned audibly. She reached around and grasped his magnificent ass in her hands, and redoubled her efforts. She took the end of his cock in her mouth, and circled it with the tip of her tongue, then withdrew. She licked down his right side, stopping from time to time to return to his perfect package, keeping him off-guard. She took him more deeply in her mouth and felt him stiffen and grow. She licked up and down the length of his shaft, then pulled away and pressed her head against him, ensnaring his cock in her sleek mane, teasing him with her tresses. He wound his fingers in her hair, more to brace himself than to redirect; he was leaving her to her own, delicious devices. She took him in her mouth again, this time allowing him deeper access, and drew back, tightening her moist lips around him. She brought herself down on him again, and raked her teeth gently along his shaft as she pulled back. His butt clenched in her hands and she felt his thighs go rigid. She worked up speed, taking him in. She wrapped her hands around the base of his member, enclosing him entirely in hands and mouth. She rotated her hands gently in opposite directions, her mouth a pendulum swivelling side to side, pulling him every which way. Low, animal sounds erupted from deep within his chest. He pushed her back and stepped away from her, panting. "Not so fast," he grinned. "You aren't getting off _that_ easily. The night is still young, and our agenda is _very_ full."

* For those not familiar with Captain Bligh and the story of Mutiny on the Bounty: .com/title/tt0026752/plotsummary

The strip tease was inspired by this very funny scene from House: .com/watch?v=CICVnYQpbj4


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers_

Eric reached down to hook his hands under Laura's arms and lifted her to her feet. He kissed the hollow of her throat and inhaled her scent deeply. He raked his fangs up her neck and nipped lightly at her earlobe, sending shivers up her spine. Laura pushed him away; it was far too soon to surrender. Eric snarled, baring his fangs, lifted her so that their eyes were level and pinned her hard against the wall. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he ordered her. Laura brought her knees into her chest, planted her heels on his pecs and pushed for all she was worth, trying to kick him back. But he was the immovable object, and she a very resistible force, and her stilettos barely made a dent in his skin. Eric roared, released her arms and let her drop a foot, before catching her behind the thighs and slamming her back in to the wall. _Space Mountain has __**nothing**__ on rough vampire sex_, Laura grimaced, her stomach doing a loop-de-loop at the sharp drop. He pinned her up against the wall, pushing her knees back up towards her chest, spreading her open to his will. He lowered her to meet his hips, impaling her onto his length. _So much for foreplay_, Laura thought, bracing herself for a painful entry, but he glided into her effortlessly, like a hot spoon through melting ice cream. No, not hot. He was a cool rod of sculpted marble, and her every contour moulded to envelop his curves. She moaned in surprised pleasure as he rocked himself inside her. He was reaching spaces no human lover had ever touched, and she couldn't stop herself from matching his thrusts and lunges. He pressed his pelvis against her, flattening her into the wall, grabbed her ankles and wrapped her legs around him. "Hang on," he warned, "unless you think you'd enjoy falling from this height." She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed his waist with her thighs, a Valkyrie riding her Viking steed, galloping toward her climax. She threw her head back, sunk her nails into his back, and surrendered to the pleasure.

Laura collapsed into Eric's chest, breathing heavily, anticipating his imminent release. But Eric Northman was only warming up. He'd been insatiable as a human, and as a vampire, he had become an unstoppable force of nature. He moved a step back and shifted Laura forward, learning her head into the wall. The shift opened new pathways to pleasure – erogenous zones she did not know she had. Eric was good as his word, returning threefold what she had given him, performing his dances of seduction deep inside her. Each time she peaked, he would shift his stance, alter his rhythm and adjust his movements, and Laura's assent would begin anew. She thought of Andrea's comment about blacking out, and wondered how long she could remain conscious. She found she didn't care.

"Are you ready to submit, my pet, to give in to me, completely?" he whispered in her ear, "To acknowledge me as your Master?" His words aroused and enraged her, and she sought to regain the advantage. Her response was a long, deep, probing kiss, her tongue parting his lips and exploring within. She grazed his lower incisors, flicking, brushing, teasing, then glided up between his fangs, never touching them, in and out, up and down over his front teeth. She felt him tremble slightly. Her tongue skimmed the tip of his left fang, then ran its length and width, snaking around it, encircling it. Laura tilted his chin up with her hand, positioning her mouth directly under his, drew close and pressed her lips around his fang, sucking on it deeply. A low, animal rumble from deep within his ancient bones reverberated through to Laura's chest, and he began to shake. He stumbled back, slipping out of her, releasing his grip, and her feet hit the floor. _Free!_ She dashed for the door, intent on the locks, not caring about the risk of running naked through a bar of hungry vampires. But she had forgotten about Eric's speed, and Laura ran smack into the clutches of a very.. _angry_…vampire.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I have not given you permission to leave."

"I'm _**no one's**_ pet and you're _**not **_my '_Master_,'" she shouted at him, pounding his chest as he held her. With one hand, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack, ignoring her kicks and scratches. He grabbed a large seat cushion from off the couch, tossed it onto the desk, and flung her, face down, on top of it. She landed with a startled "oomph" from the force, but his actions were well choreographed, and the cushion softened her fall. He grabbed her wrists and stretched her arms over the desk, pulling her body taught against it. The height of the desk, the thickness of the cushion and her 2 ½ inch heels combined to push her butt high in the air. Her feet barely skimmed the floor. She was now at the perfect height for him to view and enjoy. Laura cursed and kicked her legs, trying to get free. He pressed his left hand into her lower back, pinning her down, forcing her to arch her back and raise her bottom even higher. She gasped in surprise as his right hand landed a loud smack on her exposed flank, but the blow was all sound and no fury. "Your defiance is getting tiresome," he told her, the huskiness in his voice betraying him – he was getting many things, but bored was NOT one of them. "I am far too strong and quick for you – Resistance is futile*," he teased.

_It's not enough dealing with a Viking and a vampire – now he's going all __**BORG**__ on me?_ _!_ thought Laura with a grim smile.

"Until I manage to train you, I will restrain you," he told her. "Bring your feet closer to the legs of the desk." Laura defied him again, crossing her ankles and locking her knees together. He whacked her ass again, a stinging, but still far from painful, slap. "Spread. Your. Legs. NOW!" he ordered. Laura considered holding out one more time, her butt pink and tingling, but reconsidered. So far, he seemed to be sensing just how much force she craved, but she did not know how to signal "More!" rather than "Harder!" so she complied. "Don't move," he commanded, and he fastened her ankles to the desk, not with chains or ropes, but padded leather straps, attached with Velcro. _All power, no pain_, she noted with satisfaction.

"_Finally_," Eric smiled, contented with the job. "Now I can put my hands to better use." He drew a path with his fingertips up the insides of her thighs, raising her flesh into delighted goosebumps. She strained against the straps, unable to move an inch, and wondered whether she wanted to shut her legs or spread them wider for him. His fingers reached her lower lips, parting them like a rose, exploring her depths and discovering her eager wetness for him. He inserted a finger and, finding no opposition, a second and a third, curling and wiggling them deep inside her, while his other hand stroked her tender nub. His thumb rested between her cheeks, teasing at her rear entrance. Resistance _was_ futile, she realized, and she surrendered utterly to the ripples of passion that coursed through her entire body.

Eric stood, admiring his handiwork, watching her twitch from the aftershocks. He positioned himself between her outstretched limbs. He entered her smoothly, and she admitted his considerable length and girth easily, whimpering in pleasure and fatigue. "Keep your legs straight and your knees locked. It will stimulate your G-spot," he instructed her. "His thrusts landed on uncharted shores within her depths, and he kindled _all_ of her spots, "A" through "triple-X." Laura melted into the cushion, unable to formulate a coherent thought, drifting into abandon.

He increased his pace within her, his own passions stirring with her every peak. The pressure built within his belly, a current running throughout his trunk and limbs. It was time. Eric brushed Laura's hair from off her neck, and bent her head to the right, exposing her untouched neck. He ran his tongue along its length, tasting her blood through the skin, drinking in her provocative aroma. Laura came crashing back to earth – this part still frightened her. Driven by equal parts of fear and playing her role, she began to struggle anew, covering her neck with her hands. "No, don't – please – I've changed my mind. I'm not ready for this," she pleaded. "Oh darling, it's _much_ too late for that," he cooed. "You always knew it would come to this. I'm a _vampire_ – no fang, no bang! You have a blood debt to pay, remember? And 'no" is no longer an acceptable part of your vocabulary."

She began to struggle in earnest, fear building inside her and feeding on itself. She tore at him with her nails, but her legs were tied, her torso pinned beneath his weight. He batted her hands away like dragonflies and her neck bent within his grasp as if made of soft, wet clay. Opportunity combined with overwhelming desire, and he struck like a rattlesnake, sinking fangs deep into her silken flesh. Laura screamed, cursed, cried, in pain, fear and frustration. The game had taken a terrifying turn, and she was being devoured by an unleashed beast she could neither resist nor tame.

He held her tightly, arms wrapped around her, belly pressed into her back, still immersed within her wet depths. Her rapid breath pumped her blood full of oxygen, making it thick, sweet and intoxicating. The scent of her adrenalin enveloped him in a heady swoon. _Damn, she was __**delicious**__ !_ His inner predator emerged, eyes glowing like red-hot coals, baying for her blood. It drank deeply, howling its desire, and he longed to unleash it, to allow it to drain and devour her, to rip and tear and roar its triumph. Eric took a deep breath, not for air but for control. _This wasn't the deal_, he reminded himself, _and_ _it would be most unwise. Besides_, he thought, _this morsel is too tasty to be consumed all in one bite_ – he intended to enjoy her again. Centuries of unbridled passion battled with control developed only recently, but he drove the beast back into its cage. It howled its fury and frustration as he slammed and locked the door. He stopped to savour the moment and realized something was wrong.

Laura was trembling within his grasp, her breath coming in sharp, staccato gulps and sobs. Eric smelled her…fear? _Real_ fear? The beast rumbled and he bade it be still. _Another time, with less risk and different prey,_ he told it. He withdrew his fangs slowly, careful not to tear her skin further, and turned her face towards him. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He brushed them away, soothing her. "Shh," he whispered "Stop struggling. _Relax_. Give in to it. That's when the pain stops and the _pleasure_ begins." She looked at him in bewilderment. He was not glamouring, but he _was_ seducing, and it was working. He pressed his lips close to her ears and murmured softly, "_Trust me_."

Laura groaned and took a deep breath, then willed her muscles to release, offering her neck to him. He licked the trail of blood from her shoulder to the bite, then closed his lips gently on the wound and sucked deeply. Intense pleasure flowed with her blood, and Laura moaned softly. They began a slow, synchronized dance, a harmonious thrust and parry. He matched her, breath for breath, gyrating his hips in time to her heartbeat. Laura felt herself flow into him as he released and flowed into her. Crashing waves of pleasure engulfed her, and she dove in, swimming in them, sinking in them, drowning in them.

If you are not a Star Trek fan, here is an explanation of the references to the Borg and "resistance is futile" quote: .org/wiki/Borg_(Star_Trek)


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers_

"Please, enough, I'm _begging_ you – stop!" she implored him, but her sparking eyes belied her words. Laura lay on her back upon the bed, her arms tied above her head to the bedposts. He had propped pillows underneath her arms and back to ease her muscles and ensure her comfort. His mouth was busy between her legs, repaying, yet again, his threefold debt.

He looked up from his latest undertaking. "Stop?" he asked innocently. "Why on _earth_ would I want to stop?" he grinned, licking her nectar off his lips. He held her legs apart and stroked her inner thighs.

She quivered at his touch. "Because 17 is my _absolute_ limit," she protested with a weak smile. "I don't think I can take anymore of this." She pulled against the straps and his hands, but she was going nowhere. And she wasn't completely sure there was somewhere else she'd rather be.

Eric had taken her over the edge a half-dozen more times, using teeth, lips, fingers, tongue… licking, suckling, grazing, teasing. He had shown her new pleasure points from tip to toe, proving that even knees and elbows could be sources of delight. He had brought her to orgasm by merely fondling her breasts, alternating touches soft as butterflies with nips and flicks and squeezes. But now he held her writhing on the brink of insanity with a new, exquisite torture: his mouth was close upon her mound, her clit trapped in the 90 degree angle between his fang and tooth, held captive by his tongue. She had to force herself to lie still, afraid to cut her most delicate parts against his sharpness, though his teasing caresses made her want to thrash and flail. He stroked, he licked, he tantalized, driving her to a frozen, whimpering frenzy. She prayed for him to stop, to never stop, and everything in-between, desperate for release and rest. He pressed down into her, pushing her folds back with his lips and tongue, finding at last the base of her nub, then scraped his fang, slowly and gently, upwards to its tip.

She lost all memory of how to breathe. Each muscle tensed, and tensed still more. Every fibre stretched; he tuned her like a violin, tightening her strings until she could have sung 4 octaves above middle C. Her face contorted in a grimace that could only be pain or unyielding pleasure – and how different are they, really? – so frantic was her need for relief. Her mouth opened and strained, and when she thought she would pass out from lack of air, a sound sprung forth: a feral growl from deep within that turned into a scream.

Laura collapsed on the bed, gasping for air, and almost sobbed. "Eighteen," Eric laughed, lapping up her sweet essence, cleaning her like a preening cat. "but who's counting?'

"You are going to give me a coronary," she warned, but she couldn't repress the smile. "We can't have that!" he said in mock dismay. "Heart attacks make humans all tough and _stringy_." He made a face. "Not at all tasty. Never mind – we'll save the rest for next time."

"NEXT time? What in the world makes you think there's going to BE a next time?" Laura exclaimed in feigned horror.

"I can think of 18 reasons," he smirked, "but if you need one more…"

"No, no, next time," Laura agreed, laughing.

But he was not so easily dissuaded; he was ready and willing for a rematch. "Perhaps you're bored with me, alone, Laura. Shall I invite Pam to join us? Chow? Both of them?" Laura shrank into the pillows, resuming the game they played so well. "I thought you said you never shared on a first date," she challenged him. "That was dinner," he answered. "This would be dessert." He reached into his discarded pants and pulled out his cell phone.

"But you claimed that I am yours – that no one else would dare touch me."

"Until I said otherwise. I'm saying so, now."

This was getting intense again – it was time to change tactics. "Eric, please, don't," she pleaded. "I've had more that I can handle in one night."

"Eric?" Who gave you permission to call me _Eric_?" He powered on the phone.

"Mr. Northman…Sir…" she tried. Eric scowled at her and began to dial the number.

"Sheriff?" she asked, plaintively, starting to feel a bit frantic. Pam scared her more than Eric, and _three_ of them at once… ?

He walked over to the bed and showed her that the line was ringing. "Master," he snarled, insisting. "Master," she whispered, conceding. He flipped the phone shut, and smiled.

The next was all a blur. In vampire speed, she found herself released and wrapped in his embrace, spooned from behind by a now tender lover. He rained soft kisses on her neck and shoulders and rubbed the circulation back into her tired arms. He turned her to face him and kissed her mouth gently. "Thank you," he said. "That was most…_satisfying_." She snuggled close and purred into his chest. Vampires even _cuddled_ better!

"So Laura, tell me, what's next on your 'bucket list,' now that you've crossed off Viking vampire? And am I still as repulsive as I am beautiful?"

Her eyes widened. "You…you heard _all_ that?"

"We're vampires, sweetheart. We hear _everything_."

Laura was disappointed at her ruined game. The waiting, the costume, the acting – were they all a waste of time? "But, making you believe I was unwilling was the whole point," she said. "Didn't it spoil it, knowing that I desired you all along? Why…"

"You were _very_ convincing," he told her. "In fact, you were superb. You made me feel 300, again." Laura chuckled at the unusual compliment and rolled her eyes. "If I had a dollar for every time I heard _that_ old line…" she teased.

"It wasn't all an act, though, was it?" he asked, now serious. He stroked the marks he'd left upon her neck, sealed with his tongue and beginning to heal already. The beast within rumbled, remembering its desires. He closed his eyes and stilled it with his will. "The biting – it really frightened you?"

She sensed the beast, but somehow still felt safe. This creature could kill her in an instant, if he chose, and yet she trusted him. "Yes," she admitted. "I guess I didn't know much about vampires, and it was overwhelming. Once I relaxed, like you told me, it felt sublime, but it hurt like hell at first. I panicked when I thought you might not stop. I think we need a safe word, if we're to do this again."

"When, not if." He corrected her. "You have nothing to fear from me, Laura, other than what you want to. But I will grant you your safe word, if you promise not to abuse it. Keep yourself open to what I offer you – you may be surprised by what you will enjoy." Laura shivered. She knew that he was right. She wasn't here in spite of the danger, but because of it, and she needed to give up control in order to be free. But Eric saw the wisdom of her suggestion; the beast could be _most_ persuasive.

"I promise," she answered. "Bill Compton, then," he replied.

"_Bill Compton_? Who, or what, is a Bill Compton?"

"A vampire of no consequence, a thorn in my side and the biggest buzz kill in Louisiana. The mere mention of his name is guaranteed to dampen my enthusiasm for just about anything."

"Bill Compton," she agreed, committing the name to memory. It was always more fun not to use a safeword, but he was not her typical playmate. Foursome feeding frenzies where she was dessert were way beyond her boundaries, and she found it difficult to tell when the Sheriff was only kidding. But if he was willing to use a safeword…

She relaxed into his arms, content and spent. He stroked her hair and nuzzled at her neck, exactly what she needed now. "How do you _know_?" she asked? She had always establish ground rules with a new partner – what she like and what she didn't, what was OK and what was not. She had gone into this one blind, and it could have ended badly. But he had understood at every turn just how far to go. "Can you read my mind? Or have you been glamouring me all along?"

"You know how I feel about glamouring," he scoffed. "Humans think they communicate with speech," but your bodies tell us so much more. For example," he said, cupping her breast and stroking her nipple lightly, "I know you like this." She sighed. "And this," he continued, running his hand up and down her rear, kneading it gently. "And you _need_ this…" he added, raising his hand. She caught his wrist and wheeled around, preventing the swat on her behind. "That's for _playtime_, only," she admonished, "and playtime's over." He pinned her to the mattress. "Playtime's over when _I_ say it is," he warned her. She glared at him. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" she snapped.

He lifted her towards him, his hand between her shoulder blades, and stared into her eyes. "I am the lover who understands what you need and who knows how to give it to you – even when you claim not to want it." She turned to liquid at his words, dissolving in his arms. "Yes," she breathed, "You are. You do."

"I will teach you to trust and obey your Master, girl," he declared. "The lesson begins now. You need a good, long spanking." He flipped her over and pulled her across his lap, pinning her down with one arm. "He landed three firm smacks on her bare bottom. _Ow_, yelped her butt, but _Wow!_ gasped her clit. _Down girl_, she told it, _you've had enough for one night, and so have I. _She tried to talk her way out of his grasp, offering a submissive plea. "Please, Master," she cajoled, "I _deserve_ this, I need it, I _know_ I do. But you have worn me out, tonight. Could we not finish this next time?"

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today," he smiled, "because if you like it today, you can do it again, tomorrow." She felt him harden underneath her, and groaned. As far as she was concerned, that fat lady had finished the opera and already taken 17 curtain calls, but she knew that it wasn't over until Eric Northman _said_ it was. She was exhausted, and he showed no signs of slowing down. This _had_ to stop, now. She felt him wind up for another blow.

"Bill Compton, Bill Compton, Bill Compton," she squealed, invoking her safe word like a Harry Potter spell. She prayed her incantation would disarm his magic wand, at least for now. It worked. He released her and spun away, as if she were pure silver. He clutched his heart and staggered, moaning melodramatically, "Wounded! Cut to the quick! I'll be flaccid for a week!"

She dissolved into peals of laughter at his antics, relieved that he had honoured the safe word, and offered him her hand. She could not imagine that anything short of staking would put Eric Northman out of commission for too long. "I have _got_ to meet this Bill Compton," she mewed seductively, as Eric returned to bed. "He must be a _very_ powerful vampire to have such an effect on you. Perhaps we could…"

Eric leapt upon her, menacing. "Do not EVER joke about that." he smouldered. "You. Are. MINE!" He turned away. "Take human lovers, if you wish. _They_ are of no consequence to me." Laura saw that this was not a sore spot to be poked or prodded. She knelt upon the bed, reached for him and turned him towards her. She kissed him gently on the mouth, outlining his lips with her tongue. Ane when she touched her fingers to his lips, he opened them to her. With tender strokes, she caressed his sharp, white points. "No fangs but these," she promised.

Playtime was definitely over. Mollified, he leaned against the headboard and drew her back into a hug. He stroked her hair and ran his hand from her cheek down to her neck. Laura signed and relaxed into his embrace. "So, Laura," he asked, lightening the mood, "what will you report back to the Fellowship about their suit of armour?"

"Back to the drawing board – they need to work the 'bugs' out," she laughed. "Definite design flaws. And scratchy as hell." He smiled. "Tell them they owe me a new pair of boxers. Black. Silk. Extra large. And how much _detail_ will you give them?" he leered.

"Top-line only," she snickered. "No need to give Reverend Newlin a heart attack! The rest is on a need-to-know basis, and no one needs to know but us. Agreed?"

"Pam will demand a full accounting," Eric smirked. "And she doesn't easily take 'no' for an answer." Laura threw a pillow at his head and rolled her eyes.

Eric became serious again, the pragmatic businessman emerging. "I would just as soon not have you working for the Reverend anymore. Fangtasia could use a good advertising firm – business is strong, but it could always be better. And I get the impression you are not easily _mastered_ when it comes to commerce? You asked good questions about TruBlood – I could introduce you to their sales rep, the next time he comes in."

"My work with the church was a one-shot deal," she reassured him. "They're batshit crazy. I just needed some ammunition coming in here – and that suit was WAY beyond my means. Besides, I never mix business and pleasure. I can't have you coming to my office, leering at me in front of my staff and demanding I call you 'Master' in my boardroom! So choose, Sheriff… is our next meeting a sales pitch or a play-date?"

Eric didn't hesitate. Tonight had been far too much fun to have it all end now. "There's no shortage of advertising agencies in Shreveport," he shrugged.

Laura's ego was on the line – she wouldn't be so easily dismissed, not where her work was concerned. "But none as kick-ass as mine," she boasted. And you've got fangbangers lined up around the block for you."

"But none as kick-as as you," he grinned, his eyes twinkling. "_They_ bore me. _You_…most assuredly do NOT."

"Playmates, then," she agreed, quite pleased, "until one of us gets bored. Then, look out, Mr. Northman. As an ad woman, I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"No doubt," he laughed. "You were quite the force, tonight." She looked at him, and hesitated. "What's on your mind? he asked.

"I need to make absolutely certain I understand the rules. You locked the door. You said no one would challenge you. You called me 'pet' and made me declare you 'Master.' But you promised me earlier…"

"Silly words, for playtime only. You are free to leave whenever you like," he assured her. "And to return when you like. But when you do…"

"I. Am. YOURS!" she snarled, in a shockingly good imitation. He laughed, despite himself. "No one else dares to speak to me that way – not even a vampire," he admonished, loving her audacity.

"No one else will do for you what I have done, tonight," she replied, "_especially_ not a vampire!"

He shook his head at her temerity. It had been a long time since he had felt this way. The beast rumbled and he revelled in its excitement, although he would keep it caged. "True," he admitted. "Chow would not do justice to those stilettos, and I cannot _imagine_ Pam in a chastity suit of any kind, let alone one of silver. Only you could do this. And I hope you will return to do it again. Soon."

_I __am__ yours,_ she thought. _Not my heart – it would be wasted on you. My body I will give to you completely, but I will make you work for it._ _I have no intention of boring you for quite some time._ She wouldn't admit any of this to him yet – that would be much too easy. But she _would_ return, so they could both feed and be sated. He would feast on her blood, and she would gorge on his power.

"I _will_ be back," she promised him. _But Lover, I will make you wait, much longer than you'd like._ She kissed him one last time and smiled, a toothy, wicked grin. She licked her lips. The game began again.

END


	6. Chapter 6

To those kind readers who put "No Thrill Left in Feeding on the Willing," on story alert, my apologies. This is my first time posting and I made a mistake – the story is complete. I may write a sequel at some point, about a return visit, but I am not sure. My next story will most likely be about Bill, who is very much my favourite vampire.

And I'm sorry if I misled you that there was a chapter 6 – this was the only way I knew to let everyone know.

Thank you again for reading and following!

Eternallybills


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